


Cinnamon

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Pippin checks in after a party.





	Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The little bell rings above the doorway as he slips inside, and the hinges creak like the building’s a century older than it is. The air is nice and crisp within, plenty warm: more than welcome after the cold wind of the street. Pippin kicks his boots out on the welcome mat and plods inside, still dirty, but the tile’s already littered with mud and half-melted snow. Someone will probably come out to mop it up, but it’ll be a mess a few customers after again, and the floor isn’t what really matters.

The counter, running half the length of the far wall, is loaded in enough fresh pastries to tune out the whole rest of the world. Even though Pippin came for other things, his eyes go straight there. A cheesecake’s split up into slices, a pumpkin pie’s already half gone, and a stack of glazed donuts seems to sing his name. He doesn’t bother to look at any of the back wall’s tables or the quirky local artwork by the window. He beelines straight for the register, gaze locked on a giant mocha muffin.

He doesn’t have to ring the little bell atop the counter—someone slips out of the back soon enough. Before Frodo can reach him, Pippin asks, “Is Merry in?” And Frodo smiles knowingly and nods, turning right on his heel and disappearing back into the kitchen. Pippin can feel the heat of it from where he is. He can hear Sam whistling softly, the gentle clatter and crinkle of packaging telling a whole other story. This is his favourite bakery, and the air never smells anything but _delicious_.

Merry’s cologne is completely swallowed up by it. He saunters along the counter with just a faint hint of pine and cedar clinging to his turtleneck, the green apron around his collar not diminishing his style in the slightest. He looks far more put-together than he did this morning, stumbling off the couch to help Pippin pick up bottles. He grins as he reaches Pippin, crossing his arms over the counter to slickly tease, “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

“Pfft,” Pippin snorts, both blushing and grinning back. “Just thought I’d return your sweater—you left it at my place.” He plucks at the thick knit that’s already on him. It’s a size or two too big—Merry’s just a little broader—but he still couldn’t resist trying it on. And then he forgot to take it off. And now he’s glad he did—the paper-thin jacket he has on below it wouldn’t have survived the late November chill.

Merry tells him, “You can keep it.”

And Pippin admits, “I was hoping you would say that.” He’ll still need it to get home. And to snuggle up in on a rainy day, when he’s alone and doesn’t want to be. It smells like Merry, when the cloying scent of bread and sugar isn’t there instead.

Frodo walks past again, now carrying a tray of scones to slip onto the racks behind the counter. He asks on his way, “Do you actually want anything?”

“Vodka, cake, maybe another horror flick,” Pippin starts to rattle off, snatching memories from last night. “A new four-player game, some white cheddar chips—”

“I’m sorry I asked,” Frodo laughs, rolling his eyes. He finishes with the scones and putters off again.

Merry picks up the hint and asks, “Same time next week, then?” 

“That depends—will you stay to help me clean up in the morning again?”

“Sure, if you’re cool with me crashing on the couch again.”

“And will you leave just as fast?”

“If I’ve got a shift.”

Pippin scrunches up his nose, even though it’s already going so well, and it feels like all his not-so-subtle invitations are being taken. Maybe next week, Merry won’t even need the couch.

The bell dings before Pippin can come up with a good way to plead Merry out of work. The overpowering stench of dying flowers hits him from behind, and he glances back to see a grouchy-looking woman sidle up behind him. She gives Pippin a sneer, and that’s all he needs to know he can’t linger in the lineup any longer.

Merry chirps over Pippin’s shoulder, “I’ll be with you in just a moment, Mrs. Sacksville.” To Pippin, he asks, “Do you actually want to order anything?”

“Sure,” Pippin tries, half joking and half dead serious: “a mocha muffin and a kiss.”

Merry grins broadly and ducks to scoop up an enormous muffin, while Pippin moves out of the way.


End file.
